Page 20 of Marked
The bookstore was easy to find this time, the designed door like a beacon.
Damien had said nothing to her as they entered, and she moved to the back.
He followed, smiling swiftly as Blair's speed picked up, and she found a familiar book on a windowsill.
She grazed the spine before opening it and sitting at a chair that was up against the wall.
Damien watched her as she found a comfortable position and kicked her shoes off.
He hung around for about an hour more before muttering something to her and disappearing into town.
By the time Blair looked up from all the stories she had read, the sun was shining brightly through the upper windows, signaling the afternoon was in full swing.
At this point, she had three different novels in front of her, each spread open to other pages, displaying various symbols of the language she was trying to decipher.
She had been able to decode some of the words, guessing at the stories that filled each one.
A grumble reminded her that she had yet to eat today.
She closed the books and stood, reshelving them in the area where they belonged.
The day was much needed: a quiet day away and a space where she was able to lose herself.
She stretched her arms over her head and bent over, stretching the muscles in her back.
A short woman with a brunette bob poked her head around the corner, startling Blair.
"I just knew you'd get lost in my books!
" The owner, Blair assumed, beamed with pride as she continued, "I had come in here to see if you had any questions, but you were so enthralled, I decided to come back later, and here I am!
" The corner of her brown eyes crinkled with enthusiasm as she raised her hand to wave. "I'm Mar! I own the bookstore."
Blair took a second to take in the owner. At a whopping 5'0, the woman in front of her carried a sense of confidence and enthusiasm that made her somehow taller. Her smile was kind and contagious, somehow making Blair feel warm and at ease.
"Hi. Thank you for checking on me.” Blair looked back at the books she had just returned, “I hadn't even noticed. I was trying to decipher some of the words, and I guess I got a little carried away."
"Ah, you must have found my journals in Veldusk." Mar nodded, gesturing to the small journals Blair was looking at. "I work on those when I have time too. A rare mystery they are, a lost language to most, but they say it originated here."
Blair nodded, conversing for a few minutes and then dismissing herself.
Mar let her go, but only after she promised to come back to discuss the other "wonderful mysteries" that lived within the pages of her books.
She chuckled as she walked out, closing the door and turning her attention to the figure that lingered outside .
Damien lay under a nearby tree, a large brown bag at his side and a book in his hands. Blair halted, eyes grazing over the sight. She tilted her head in disbelief and approached him with a look of bewilderment.
"About time you came out; I was about to come check if you were alive," Damien muttered, closing his book.
"You're...reading?" Blair asked incredulously.
Damien scoffed. "That's insulting."
Blair smiled at him and swung at him as he stood, hitting him with a soft punch.
The walk back to the Inn was quiet. Blair was lost in her head, focusing on the details around her and the journals she had been looking at.
It seemed like only minutes had passed when the ground under them turned into familiar hot springs mud.
The Inn was busy, alive with hordes of people.
She nodded to each one as she passed them, acknowledging them as they waved.
The whole time, Damien watched her, often gazing at her hair and the flowers that adorned it.
As they finally entered their room, Blair threw herself on the bed.
As she bounced and settled, a loud grumble emitted from her stomach. Damien looked at her stomach and then up to her face, "Have you eaten yet?"
She shook her head and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
Damien walked to the side of the bed and picked up the brown bag that he had brought back from town.
He moved his hand inside, grabbing the item inside, and pulled it out.
At the sight, Blair's mouth started to water.
The insignia on the small container showed a slice of bread with a heart in the corner.
She recognized it from the bakery that was next to the bookstore.
Many times today, the smell had wafted in the bookstore, causing her to pause and imagine the different treats they probably sold.
Opening his hand, Damien held out a pastry filled with blueberries and topped with a crumble. He lifted it to her nose, offering to let her smell it.
"Is that for me?" She looked at the pastry and licked her lips.
"You're hungry, huh?" he teased, his mood lifting slightly. "I do believe you owe me something then."
Blair's eyes narrowed, and her stomach growled again, demanding sustenance.
"What?" Suddenly, she recalled the conversation from the last time they ate. She looked up at Damien who seemed to be waiting for something. "Damien, please…" she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. "Don't be childish."
Damien paused, the grin on his face softening slightly. "You know what you have to do," he repeated, his tone playful. "I'm sure this is worth begging for."
Blair looked again at the warm pastry in his hands, the smell intruding her senses.
"Damien," she began again, more desperate now, "Please. Can I eat that?"
He raised an eyebrow, the playful gleam fully returning to his eyes. "More?"
Blair bit her lip, glancing at the food in front of her, feeling her resolve slipping. Hunger was taking over .
"Damien…" she said softly, the words finally escaping her lips, "You big idiot, I'm begging you. I'm hungry. Can I please eat that?"
Damien's grin widened, clearly satisfied by the admission.
"You know," he said, lifting the pastry and handing it over, "the green comes out in your eyes when you beg.
" He handed her the food, and Blair took it with a grunt of annoyance, her hands shaking as she bit into it, the warmth and flavor more than she had expected.
The hunger that had racked her body was instantly receding.
Damien sat down beside her, watching as she ate in silence. He didn't need to say anything more. The game was over; he had won.
After she had finished, he reached into the bag one more time and pulled out three different shirts with matching bottoms. He placed them on the bed next to Blair.
"Before you bite my head off about them, I just figured I had a lot of stuff to replace from the fire.
" Expecting an aggressive response or to be punched, Damien tensed up.
Instead, a heavy silence hung for a few moments between them, and then a tear fell on Blair's cheek. She took them and folded them, placing the outfits in her bag. A soft "thank you" barely made it to Damien as she closed her bag.
The rest of the evening was filled with a unique tension between them. Damien had ventured out for dinner, returning with a small bowl of noodles for them to share. They then took turns in the water while the other stayed in the room.
When the moon was high in the night sky, both of them had settled into the room.
As Damien rummaged through his bag, taking inventory of their supplies, Blair glanced to the floor.
She fiddled her fingers as she eyed the bed she was lying on.
Fighting internally with herself, she weighed the pros and cons of sharing a bed with him.
As her mental list came to an end, her shoulders slowly sagged in defeat at the side that won.
The final pillow was yanked into place as she looked up at Damien. He had just finished making some notes on a piece of paper and had closed his bag. She cleared her throat and motioned to the barrier that stood two pillows tall, an uneven wall of cotton and defiance.
"This is your side," she said, pointing to the other side of the bed. "Touch that line and lose a finger."
Damien smiled and crossed the room, lying down next to her on the bed and propping himself up on one elbow. Eyeing the pillows in amusement, he looked over them at her.
"You built a border ," he said, trying and failing to hide the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I didn't build a border," Blair corrected. "I enforced a perimeter. Don't test it."
He chuckled and flopped back down, folding his hands behind his head. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be a lot?"
She glared at him through the flickering light of the bedside lamp. "Call it what you want."
He turned his head toward her. "I like it. Besides, I think you’re only doing it because I'm growing on you, and you know it."
She grabbed one of the spare pillows and smacked it against her side of the wall, fluffing it aggressively. "If you cross this line, snore, or wake me up, I'm pushing you off the bed."
He smiled lazily, still watching the ceiling. "Noted. No touching, no breathing too loud, and the pillow wall is sacred."
"Good," she muttered, sliding beneath the covers and pulling them up to her chin. "We understand each other."
A few moments passed in silence. The room settled around them, dim and warm, filled only with the soft rustle of fabric and the light from the lamp.
Then Damien whispered, "What if the pillows happen to fall over?" with a smile in his voice. There was a pause. Then, a heartbeat later, Blair's eyes caught the slight movement of a thin tendril of shadow peeking over the top pillow, rocking it back and forth.
Blair's voice struck out in a stern tone. "Try it and die." In response to her savagery, he smiled into the dark and said nothing more.